


Alpha Wolf

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow going all angry kitten, Jon Snow in the bath, do you need anything else?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 09:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Anyone who wishes to ask for Sansa Stark's hand in marriage must best her cousin in the training yard first.





	Alpha Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Another ficlet separation

It started with his own anger and uncontrollable need to assert dominance over these unworthy lordlings - these pompous pricks that presumed that they need only flash their lands and titles under his cousin's nose and she'd be chomping at the bit to be wedded and bedded once more. But now, now it had grown into something quite different, Jon mused with a smirk as he made his way to the training yard.

All those who visited Winterfell to try their hand at wooing Lady Sansa - at attempting to coax her away from him, had also been eager to train with the famed 'Bastard King in the North' during their stay. That's when it had started.

Jon would speak with Sam in the morning, they would chat idly about the comings and goings, the stocks and preserves, the health and the wealth of Winterfell - but that wasn't what Jon really wanted to hear - he wanted to know whom he would be sparring with that day, and more specifically, which ones are visiting with the aim of taking Sansa away from him - those little (or big - Jon didn't care) shits got what was coming to them in the training yard.

This continued for half a moons turn before Sansa commented that each and every suitor that approached her lately would be sporting split lips, cut brows and arms in slings. _"Are you trying to kill off all the eligible men in Westeros Jon"?_ she had giggled that evening in their shared solar. Jon only grunted at the resemblance of truth in her jest. Sansa laughed even more.

It was the next day that she'd gathered her ladies to watch the sparring unfold. She'd never done that before - it had sent a renewed source of energy to Jon's limbs when he'd seen her watching him. her excited breaths causing the swell of her breasts to strain against her bodice as her chest rose and fell, and flushed delightfully. He knew her gaze was trained on him and him alone and Jon meant to make it worth her while as he thrust and parried, spun and lunged until his opponent was on his back in the dust, panting and shrieking for Jon to yield - for half a second images of the man on the ground touching Sansa as Jon had longed to do flitted into his mind, and for the other half of that second he considered ignoring the lordling's plea. 

Once Jon had bested all those he'd challenged, he stalked over to greet the Lady of Winterfell and her tittering companions. Briefly, her eyes had looked hungrily at him and her mouth was seemingly trying to sate that hunger by chewing on her own bottom lip. But, no, that could not have been it, he must have been mistaken - Sansa would not look at him like that.

It was that very afternoon that she'd come to his chamber after his training session for the first time. Jon usually bathed to prepare for the afternoon's council meeting or petitions, to wash away the sweat and the dirt as well as the anger and frustration.

"I'm not done yet" he called out as he heard the latch on his chamber door open and close, annoyed at which ever servant had deemed those paltry few minutes he'd had to soak in the hot water as sufficient.

"Good" came Sansa's voice behind him. 

"Sansa"?! Jon turned his head to clarify what his own ears were telling him as he cupped himself for modesty. It was indeed his fair cousin, standing in front of his latched chamber door, she had with her a small deep colbalt blue apothecary bottle - the rim of which, she was absentmindedly tapping her lips with as she contemplated him in the tub.

"I thought you might be sore after your sparring session Jon" Sansa said, walking forwards "I have some sweet marjoram oil that may help". 

"Sansa...I don't think that this is proper" Jon began to protest as she neared him.

"Oh hush Jon, do you think I still care for propriety"? She said, sliding a small stool across the stone floor to seat herself behind him. The scrape echoing off of his chamber walls. "Besides, I need to take care of my protector don't I"?

"Protector"? Jon grunted.

"Is it not so then Jon? Is it just pure coincidence that the men that find themselves at the receiving end of your most brutal attacks also seem to be the very same men that come to call for my hand"? Sansa began pouring some oil onto one hand before smoothing it over and rubbing with the other.

"I don't know what you mean" Jon lied, keeping his gaze forward and his hands covering his cock.

"Mmmm... I'm sure you don't-" she lowered herself so that her lips were a mere inch from Jon's ear, her breath tickling his skin as her voice caressed her next two warm, husky words "-my King".

Jon felt like the energy that had fuelled him whilst sparring that day had returned, he felt tense and caught alight, his throat bobbed and his cock hardened as he felt Sansa smooth her hands up and over his shoulders. She spread the oil with a pleasant glide over his skin before she began pressing, kneading and working at his tired muscles. Jon felt the tension melt away under her touch.

"Does that feel nice"? She whispered in his ear. Jon groaned loud and long in response before lolling his head back. Sansa chuckled and continued her ministrations.

Somehow her fingers were delicate and yet firm as they rubbed and soothed - Jon felt like she must possess some sort of magic in those hands for he was certain he was in a trance, the heady scent from the oil mixing with the steam from his bathwater.

"All done"? Sansa purred in question at his ear.

"Mmmmm".

She pressed her lips to Jon's cheek before rising and leaving the room without another word.

It was the very next day that Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, made her announcement - _none of her marriage proposals will even be considered should the suitor not be able to best her cousin, the King in the North in the training yard._ This somehow made things better and worse. Jon felt that now he really was fighting for her. To keep her here with him - that if he should lose a match then a match of a different sort would be made shortly after. He could not have that.

Weeks followed, all the same - Sansa's suitors would challenge him and Jon would not relent until they were all piles of whimpering blood and bruises in the dirt. Sansa continued to visit after his training sessions to rub oils into his grateful overused muscles. It wasn't until he'd nearly killed that over-zealous southern lordling that the number of eager young hopeful fools started to dwindle down to near enough one every few moons.

"I haven't received a marriage offer in a good long while" Sansa said behind him as she continued to knead Jon's shoulders after his training. She lowered herself to speak quietly in his ear "I think you may have seen them all off".

Jon groaned as he enjoyed the feel of her hands working their magic on him once again. "Is that what you wanted my Lady? For me to see them all off"?

Her hands stilled momentarily before they changed their touch to one of a light scratching of nails up and down his back, making Jon shiver despite the warmth of his bathwater. "Yes" Sansa breathed. She moved forwards once more to whisper in his ear. He could feel the length of her hair brush against his back and then stick to the oil she had worked into his skin. "And I've never thanked you for it" Sansa murmured before pressing her lips to the sensitive patch of skin below his earlobe. Jon held his breath and heard her own hitch when she pulled her mouth away from him. He quickly surmised what had caused her reaction once he had realised that in his relaxation he had forgotten to cover himself - there, in full view under the water was Jon's cock standing hard and proud as it always did whenever Sansa had her hands on him. Oddly enough, he couldn't seem to move his arms to shield himself from her view as she continued to peek down at him over his shoulder.

Everything seemed to still within the room, even though the water continued to ripple, the steam continued to swirl and their breaths continued to grow gradually from steady to ragged.

"How should I show my gratitude to you my King"? Sansa rasped in his ear. He'd come to know that her mood had changed when she used his title - whenever Sansa was feeling playful or teasing, he was 'her King'. He enjoyed the sound of it dripping from her mouth and marvelled at how such a simple thing could excite him so? "What could I do for you"? Sansa repeated her question as one hand slid down his shoulder blade and followed his ribs under his arm to come to his chest, her fingers lightly grazing a nipple as she went. The fingertips of her other hand danced lightly at the back of his neck. "What can I do to please you Jon"? she asked, pressing her nose to his hair and her lips to the skin behind his ear.

Jon's breathing stumbled to a halt, he knew what he wanted but did not dare risk offending his sweet cousin by asking. 

And then, as if she'd heard his internal pleas, her hand snaked lower, down to his stomach. Jon's cock practically throbbed with the implications of her movements. He clenched his jaw and let out a shaky exhale as her hand breached the warm waters and dipped low enough that her fingers began to play with his man's hair, her knuckles every now and again grazing his cock as it strained upward. "Would this-" Sansa delicately wrapped her hand around him "-please you"?

"Yes" he answered hoarsely before cursing once Sansa began stroking him in a firm grasp, the fingers of her other hand buried themselves in his hair at the back of his head as she kept her face pressed to the side of it.

"Good" she whispered as her movements began to make the water lap and slosh lightly against the sides of the copper tub. "No one has bested you yet have they my King"?

"No" he grunted, enjoying her strokes, keeping as still as he could, his eyes closed in pleasure. Sansa nipped at his ear before continuing to speak.

"I do believe that makes you the alpha wolf in our pack". Jon groaned and leant his head back, resting on her shoulder, his breath coming fast in and out of parted lips. "The alpha wolf has his choice of female and they mate for life - did you know that? Who will you choose Jon"?

"You" he said instantly. Panic filled his lungs when suddenly her hand left him, his head dipped backwards when her shoulder was quickly withdrawn, hurting his neck a little. He steeled himself for reprimand when he turned in the tub to face her.

"Well then" Sansa said briskly as her arms were reaching back, working something behind herself. Her dress suddenly loosened and she shrugged it to the floor leaving her completely bare - no shift, no smallclothes, no stockings. Jon's mouth was left agape. Sansa arched one perfect teasing brow "Is there room in there for your mate my King"? 

 


End file.
